


Except for All the Others

by BobLoblawLawBlog



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Elections, F/M, Gen, Political Campaigns, Politics, Romance, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BobLoblawLawBlog/pseuds/BobLoblawLawBlog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Korra returns to Republic City to help oversee the election of its first legislature and must contend with the Republic's rapidly changing politics, tension between her personal life and Avatar duties, and a couple of new baddies. M for sexual content and mature themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of my next long-term project. It takes place in the canon universe but several years in the future. Since “The Witness” wound up being so relentlessly bleak, I’m trying to keep this once lighter. Let’s hope I can actually stick to that. It will be partly a political thriller, my attempt to figure out what it would be like if the United Republic made moves toward becoming an actual representative democracy (just electing a Chief Executive doesn’t really count). But alongside all that high-minded stuff, there will be loads of Adult!Krew friendship (I’ve figured out a way to make Asami relevant this time!), superheroics, and absolutely disgusting sexual tension.

“Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.” – Winston Churchill

...

“THE COMPRESSOR SENDS AIR THROUGH THE COMBUSTION CHAMBER, WHERE IT GETS HEATED UP AND SENT THROUGH THE ENGINE AT REALLY, REALLY HIGH SPEEDS TO MAKE THE TURBINE SPIN.”

Korra tried to focus on whatever Asami was screaming inside the noisy cockpit, but she was preoccupied by the queasy look on Bolin’s face.

“THE TURBINE GENERATES THRUST MORE EFFICIENTLY THAN THE OLD PROP ENGINES. WE FIGURED OUT THAT THOSE TOP OUT THE CLOSER YOU GET TO THE SPEED OF SOUND. IF WE EVER WANT TO BREAK THE BARRIER…”

“Bo, could you do me a favor and turn your head in the other direction if you decide to yak,” Korra interrupted, causing Asami to pause her monologue and look back at her friend, strapped uncomfortably into the jump seat and looking as green as his shirt.

“Bo’s still not a good flier,” Asami said, a grin spreading behind the headset that was built into her helmet. “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.”

Looking out the window from the co-pilot’s seat, Korra could see mountains on the horizon marking the space where the vast ocean would meet the mainland and funnel into Yue Bay. Beneath them stretched an otherwise unbroken expanse of blue, breathing and shifting like a great beast. Even as she looked out the windshield, she kept her head cocked to one side, half an eye on Bolin, who had been so sweet to tag along but was looking as miserable as Naga in a heat wave.

“You want some help?” she asked.

He gave her a pained look and nodded, hair flopping over a pale, sweaty forehead. Korra extricated herself from the complicated seatbelts and crept back to the surprisingly spacious cargo hold, where Naga lay amid the crates Asami was transporting from the Northern Water Tribe and looked more comfortable than Korra would have expected. She scratched the polarbear dog behind one giant ear flap before detaching a small water skin from the new saddle that had been made for her by the Northerners after their last trip to the Spirit World. 

Back in the cockpit, she knelt by Bolin, waving at him to unbutton his jacket. 

“Just keep your face pointed over there,” she said, faking annoyance. It was so good to see him again, vomit risk and all. 

As she healed him, the color came back to his pale face, and he started to sit a little easier in his chair. “If I could keep you in my back pocket, I’d let Asami take me flying anytime she wanted.”

“As I recall, you begged me to let you come along this time.”

“Special circumstances, madam,” he shot back, winking in Korra’s direction. “Sorry Mako couldn’t come. He’s…”

Korra stood and waved his apology off. “No, I know,” she said.

“You’ll definitely see him tomorrow, if that’s…you know…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s fine,” she said, strapping herself back into her seat and hoping her sigh wasn’t too audible. It was better that she that she wasn’t trapped in a steel tube with Mako before she could figure out where she stood with him. 

“And you don’t mind about the party, right?” said Asami. “I’ve been trying to keep them off your case until you have time to settle in. But with everything that’s going on, we need a show of unity, and…”

“Asami, quit fussing over me. I know what I’m here for. I can handle it.”

Asami looked over from her seat, her green eyes flashing with concern. “You’ve been away for a long time,” she said. “I just don’t want you to feel like everything’s being thrown at you all at once.”

“Do I look that fragile?”

“Not at all! You look great!” Korra couldn’t tell if Asami’s voice was shrill because she thought she’d given insult or because she was overcompensating for something else. “No really. You look strong. You’re just quieter than I’m used to.”

I haven’t been spending a whole lot of time talking to people lately, she thought to herself. She looked from Asami to Bolin and smiled a little to herself as she thought about how much she’d missed them, both the easy rapport and the dumb misunderstandings. But it didn’t feel quite like it use to. Randomly spaced phone calls and letters hadn’t been enough for her to keep up with the small things, the little changes in habit and affect she’d have noticed if she had been actively a part of their lives the past few years.

Buildings started to take shape against the backdrop of the mountains, and Asami pulled the headset microphone closer to her mouth. “REPUBLIC CITY TOWER, THIS IS SATO 2929 REQUESTING PERMISSION TO LAND.”

Korra could hear a voice crackle on the other end of the radio. “Copy 2929. Standby.” She listened with mild amusement as Asami and the tower controller swapped impenetrable jargon, knowing her friend relished every second of this.

As she looked out the window, the water gradually gave way to the coastline, the shapes of buildings and Satomobiles becoming crisper and larger as they eased down. The grid of the city was interrupted in places by the incursion of the spirit forest. But she noticed that even that had been trimmed back a bit, tamed, made to give way again as the human city grew upward and outward as if it were an organism itself. The landing gear locked with a “thunk” that startled Korra out of her daydream, and her stomach dropped a bit as their descent onto the runway became more precipitous. As the ground came closer, she realized she was holding her breath, anticipating something that never quite came. Asami’s landing was too gentle to register.

…

Looking down at the tarmac from the cockpit door, Korra saw Asami’s limousine and a cluster of reporters being forced to stay behind a roadblock by members of her staff. 

“I can have them sent away,” Asami said, obviously aware of Korra’s hesitation.

“It’s ok. I’ll answer a few questions,” she said. This had become old hat by now, and she’d learned that answering questions at the beginning of a visit meant fewer rumors circulating during her visit. Korra tugged the hem of her jacket, pulling the dark blue wool tighter against her frame, flattening out the wrinkles that had been left by the seatbelt. 

Asami and Bolin followed closely after her as she made her way down the press line, shaking hands and making a point to greet the reporters she recognized by name. 

“Where will you be staying during your time in Republic City?” asked one.

“The Maeda-Satos have graciously offered to put up with me,” she said. A ripple of polite laughter made its way through the cluster. They always laughed, no matter how slight or how stupid the joke.

“So you will be attending the pre-election gala tomorrow night?”

“I will.”

“Are you endorsing a candidate for the Republic City seat, Avatar Korra?”

“I will not be backing any candidates.” 

“But one of them is your…” 

“My role here is to ensure that the election goes forward peacefully,” she responded quickly, feeling Asami and Bolin shuffle a bit behind her. “I’m not here to tell anyone how to vote. The people of the United Republic have big choices to make next month, but they are choices they must make without me putting my foot on the scale.”

She felt them accept the answer and knew that it was time to pull away while they were on her side. She nodded and smiled to them before turning toward the limo and seeking its privacy.

“You’ve gotten good at that,” Bolin said as he slid into the seat next to her.

“Lots of practice,” she sighed wearily. Just because she’d gotten good at the press stuff didn’t mean it wasn’t draining. Someone had told her to get a press secretary at one point, but it felt wrong to have someone else speak for her.

Korra looked to Asami as she slid into the seat opposite from them. “They’ll take care of Naga, right? Your people…”

“Of course,” Asami said, waving her hand to suggest that it was no big deal transporting a polarbear dog across town. 

As the car pulled down the tarmac and toward the highway that led to the Sato mansion, Asami reached into the icebox concealed next to her seat and pulled out a perfectly chilled bottle of champagne, passing it off to Bolin before finding three flutes.

“I thought we should celebrate,” Asami said. 

Korra eagerly accepted a glass and let Bolin fill it. The champagne foamed up to the top and threatened to spill over. She caught a drip with her tongue as it escaped over the rim and laughed, a little tired but giddy with the feeling of being back to the place that had always felt more like home than anywhere else in the world. 

Asami raised her flute. “To Korra being back,” she said, so enthusiastically that Korra felt her neck turn red and barking laugh escape her throat.

“Ohhhhh stop,” she said exaggeratedly.

“How about to getting Team Avatar back together,” said Bolin.

“I’ll drink to that,” said Korra, clinking glasses with the two of them before tossing back a swig.

“…save one loser firebender, who is too busy to show up all of a sudden,” he added in an offhand manner.

Korra drank a little deeper before raising her glass again.

“And to the United Republic Senate?” she queried. “At least, the one it’ll have a month from now?”

“Here here,” said Asami. 

Korra had observed the negotiations that led up to the decision to elect a Senate from a distance, giving neither her approbation nor disapproval. Voicing opinions about the politics of the Republic had rarely worked out well for her. And truthfully, she didn’t quite know what to think. People were complaining that after three terms, the difference between President Raiko and the Firelord was the title. But no nation had ever split up a government like this. More people making rules, opponents argued, would just mean more rules and more opportunities for corruption.

And so the Avatar had been called back from her travels to ensure that balance was maintained and the peace was kept. 

As they drove around the outskirts of the city, the outlines of the buildings appeared between gaps in the trees as they whizzed by, and Korra remembered the first time the city had called to her, though for different reasons. She had sought and found the things she needed there as a kid who’d been denied the world, and since then, she’d been working to pay off the debt. She responded when it needed her now, even though this was likely to be a pretty tedious job. 

…

By the time the car reached the mansion, Korra’s brain was buzzing pleasantly from a second glass of champagne. When her boots hit the ground, it still felt steady beneath her, but her head felt miles away, drifting over the grounds and back toward the messy streets where a million years ago she had run from police and chased Equalists with a recklessness that shocked her a little bit now. Those were the days.

Exiting the vehicle, Asami ran towards a waving male figure, eager to fall into his arms.

“It’s been two days,” said Bolin, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up. They’re in love,” said Korra, watching Asami greet her husband, a handsome, bespectacled man who was ever so slightly shorter than her. “Just because your relationships never last more than a month…”

“Oh, you’re one to talk.”

She slugged him in the arm for that, delighting in the contact of her fist with a solid object. That the object said “ow” made it even better. 

They made their way up the steps, and Korra took Haruto Maeda’s outstretched hand and let him kiss her on the cheek as was currently the fashion in the Earth Kingdom. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help,” he said. “But Asami told me this trip was ‘Team Avatar only.’”

“You can be a member of Team Avatar whenever you want,” she responded. She’d always liked Haruto. He was quiet and gentle and courtly, every inch the son of the nephew of the second cousin of the Earth Queen that he was. He was at ease with himself, and he made people feel at ease in his presence.

“I know you need to get settled in, but I need to borrow Asami. Details pertaining to tomorrow night and all…”

“Understood. Bolin will give me a hand.”

“I had some dresses brought up for you,” said Asami. “I hope you don’t mind. I knew you wouldn’t have time to shop.”

“Thanks. I’ll take a look,” she said, waving at Bolin to follow her. She knew the way to Asami’s guest rooms by now.

…

“You don’t mind Haruto, huh?” he said once she’d closed the door, pushing aside the dresses that covered the bed so she could stretch out on it.

“Why not? He’s nice and he’s good for her.”

“I’m just not used to him is all.”

“You’ve had five years to get used to him.”

Bolin pushed the dresses off the bed and onto the floor and flopped down next to her on his stomach, tucking a pillow under his chin.

“You’re hanging those up in a second,” she said. 

He ignored her. “You don’t think he’s too… I don’t know…too academic, you know?” 

“You’re not sold on him because he reads?”

“‘Reads’ isn’t even covering half of it. That library of his is a big as my whole fucking apartment. I can’t understand 70% of what comes out of his mouth.”

“Face it, Bo. You’ve always had a little bit of a crush on Asami. You’ve hated everyone either of us has dated.”

“I didn’t hate Mako.”

“Mako was the sole thing keeping you alive for half your life, so that doesn’t count. And yeah, you did hate him sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t have a crush on Asami. Or you either for that matter.”

Korra reached over and messed up his hair, smiling at his sweet face. 

“I’m sorry it’s been so long.”

“Yeah, well, you’re super important and all.”

“Yeah, but you’re important to me. And I’ve done a shitty job of staying in touch.”

“Dance with me tomorrow night, and I’ll forgive you.”

“You don’t have some date with legs up to her neck?”

“Oh that’s right, I do,” he said, his eyes widening like he really had forgotten. “And don’t be jealous. You’re going to loooove her.”

She swatted at him, and he dodged out of the way, kneeling down to the floor and scooping up the dresses in both arms before throwing them on a chair in a heap.

“Not what I meant earlier.”

“No time. I have a set to get to.”

“You’re the director. They can’t start without you.”

“Gotta run!” he yelled, and he was out the door and down the hall, leaving her to relinquish her comfy spot on the bed and start hanging up the dresses in the wardrobe. Each one was probably so expensive it would make her vomit. A couple caught her eye. One was jet black with a high neck and a low-slung cowl in back, the other pale blue and short. She found herself wishing there were someone she wanted to impress. Making a choice of sorts, she hung the black one on the front of the wardrobe and returned to the bed to look at it from a distance. It took minutes for her to fall asleep contemplating the feel of a warm hand against the bare skin of her back. 

…

When she jolted awake, the sun was low in the window, and she wondered why no one had come to get her. She supposed she should be thankful to have no appointments, given what was in store for her over the next few weeks. But still, the quiet made her suspicious. 

Downstairs, she had to ask one of the house staff where Asami was and was pointed in the direction of her office. As she made her way through the maze of corridors and finally approached the door, she was startled by another familiar face coming at her from down the hall.

“Korra,” he said, matter-of-factly, caught off guard but not exactly surprised to see her.

“Hey,” was all she said in response. He looked almost exactly like she remembered, except not at all. His hair was different, his characteristically unruly coif gelled into submission. The suit he wore was tailored to fit him perfectly. But his eyebrows were still ridiculous, and underneath them, his amber eyes still let her see just a little more of him than he intended. 

Mako hugged her awkwardly, forcing her to stand on her toes to get her arms around his neck. 

“I wanted to be there to meet you at the airport,” he said as he pulled away. “I…”

Before he could explain himself, Asami’s office door swung open.

“There you are,” she said, only seeing Korra once she’d vented her frustration at Mako. “Hey! You’re up!”

“Uh huh,” she said, still thrown off by the whole situation.

“Sorry I didn’t warn you. They had to swing by on short notice.”

“No problem.”

“You should come in and meet everyone,” Asami said brightly. 

Mako signaled for her to go in first and followed both women into Asami’s spacious, wood-paneled office. In front of a desk the size of a barge were two men, one barely old enough to be shaving, and a woman in the sharpest looking suit Korra had seen on anyone who wasn’t Asami.

“Korra, this is Jiro, Mako’s campaign manager.” The man who looked to be her age or a little older rose to shake her hand. His cravat was starched to perfection, but his eyes looked bloodshot and a little wild with…something. 

“Avatar Korra!” he said. “I can’t even tell you what an honor it is to meet you. I was just telling Asami here: Asami, you have to let me meet the Avatar! But Asami always thinks she knows best and she assured me you needed your rest. But like I told her, there is no rest for people like us, is there?”

Korra found him bizarre and intense, his familiarity a little wearisome. She managed a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

“And I am sure,” he continued breathlessly. “That by tomorrow night, I can convince you to break this neutrality nonsense and endorse our candidate here. After all, you were such good friends in the past, and we all know that what’s best for this city is…”

“Jiro, cool it.” Mako’s voice came sharply from behind her.

“This,” Mako said, taking over, “is Jiro’s assistant, Bao.” The kid who hadn’t yet grown into his giant, thin hands shook hers awkwardly and did something that was halfway between an anxious nod and a bow. She couldn’t imagine Bao got to speak much.

“And Keiko takes care of the campaign’s finances.”

The woman in the sharp suit shook her hand firmly and respectfully. “An honor,” she said, but made no further effort to ingratiate herself. “We’re discussing a minor fundraising emergency with the Maeda-Satos.”

“What she means is that we’re out of money,” said Mako.

“Well…yes,” she replied.

“And of course we’re helping,” Asami added.

Keiko bowed in her direction. “This family has been extraordinarily generous.”

“We support Mako and what he’s standing for.”

Korra had known about all of this before, that Asami had convinced Mako to run for office after months of persuading, but it was still bizarre that the man at the center of this discussion was the one who had greeted her so sullenly in a pro-bending prep room the day they’d first met. She snuck glances at him as the group talked money and tried to enumerate the ways in which he’d changed. His face was more open. His fierce, almost hostile detachment had melted into a dignified reserve. And his body had filled out just a little bit, looking more like a robust and confident man knocking on the door of thirty than the boy she still saw in her head sometimes, too little flesh stretched out over sinew, muscle, and bone. 

The conversation broke up before she could fully assimilate what was happening. There was a discussion about radio ads and paying rent on an office space, and then a check was written and the whole group was out of their chairs, saying something about a meeting with the lightning benders union. 

“It’s a shame you can’t stay,” said Asami. “We were planning on catching up tonight, and Bolin already had to leave.”

“Perhaps the Avatar would come along with us,” said Jiro with a grin Korra didn’t entirely like. “It would be beneficial for her to see what the process looks like on the ground.”

She smelled a trap. “I’d love to observe a campaign, but it might look like I’m playing favorites. If the press is going to be there…”

“The press won’t be there. You should come.” This came from Mako, and she was stunned momentarily into silence.

“We can’t turn the press away,” Jiro said frantically, his words coming out in a hiss. “Do you have any idea what kind of opportunity we’d be giving up. Just one picture of her there…”

Korra wondered if the campaign manager was even aware that she was still in the room.

“I think that’s kind of her point. So, the press can take a hike. And she can come—in disguise if she wants. No one has to know she’s there.”

He smiled softly in her direction, and Korra felt her stomach do something it shouldn’t. 

“I shouldn’t abandon Asami,” she said, but her friend was looking from Mako to Korra and back to Mako again with eyes that were a little too eager. And with all the grace of a platypus bear on a bicycle, her friend fell all over herself explaining that it was absolutely fine.

As the party made their way out of the office and toward the front entrance, Asami pulled Korra aside confidentially. “I thought it was going to be so awkward with you two,” she said, her glee suggesting that her fear was assuaged.

“What about this isn’t awkward?” said Korra. “Why couldn’t you get me out of it?

“You should go. You’ll be so impressed. He’s still Mako, but you’ll be shocked by how good he is at this. Just go. Ok?”

“Alright. But if I punch him—you know like on accident or something—and he has to go in front of cameras with a black eye, I’m telling that idiot handler of his that you’re to blame.”

“It’ll be fine.”

…

Korra wasn’t sure. The small talk in the satomobile was excruciating. Jiro’s endless stream of off-putting patter made the tension even worse, and Mako had to shut him down a few times when he started skating too close to subjects she’d rather they not discuss. As terrifying as being alone with him would have been, she would have rather reconnected Mako without an audience, especially an audience this, well, involved.

“And given your history together, ” he started, interrupting a polite exchange about spirit activity up north to continue a rant that had obviously been going on for some time in his head. “It would just be so nice if you could, you know, as a friendly gesture...”

“Jiro, I want you to ball up that thing you call a tie and stuff it in your mouth,” said Mako. 

…

Asami was right, though. She was impressed. The meeting was modest. Mako met with a huddle of the electric workers in the plant cafeteria. Exhausted men and women with soot in their hair and the sheen of sweat still lingering on their skin listened to him talk for half an hour about work hours, job security, and pensions. Then they asked questions, and one woman stood, tears creating tracks on her face, to talk about how her husband had lost his factory job because he’d been injured. Now she was the only one bringing money home, and with her long shifts, she was hardly able to take care of her children.

Mako’s responses were measured, thoughtful. He took time to consider each question, and his answers were both encouraging and free of bullshit. Korra stood in the back of the room, concealing herself in the shadow of the empty kitchen and saw the backs of heads bob up and down when he spoke, the occasional grunt of approval escaping the throats of men with haggard faces. That Mako was from the same place as most of them seemed to help.

“He’s something, isn’t he,” Jiro said coming up behind her and making her grind her teeth inside her mouth. “He actually means what he says. You don’t find guys like these everywhere. The other candidates have more flash, you know? But you get this guy in front of a group like this in the right setting and…magic…”

Five years ago, Korra remembered, Mako had quit the police force because the job had gotten too depressing. She’d been worried about him for a while at that point. They all had been. His first job after that had been helping Asami set up a charity for orphans. Then he’d moved on to other work in the community, organizing people, fighting fights you couldn’t get into if you were wearing a badge. But most of that had been after they’d grown apart. She’d heard about it from Bolin and Asami, occasionally Tenzin or one of his kids.

Outside, after the meeting, Korra watched him continue to shake hands and listen intently to the things people said to him. He didn’t seem to get tired. She admired that. This was part of her job too, and it always wore her out.

She stayed back, but it was apparent that one or two people recognized her—or thought they did—even in the poor light of late evening with a grey trench coat covering her water tribe getup and a hat shadowing her face. “She looks like the Avatar,” someone whispered to the person next to him as she made her way toward the satomobile.

En route, Mako’s conversation with the last union member ended, and he grabbed her elbow as she passed. “You want me to get rid of those guys so we can talk?” he said, gesturing toward his campaign staff.

“Please,” she breathed, glad at the prospect of not having to ride back to the mansion with them but a little irritated at the way her skin pricked when he touched her. 

She waited while he sent them away in the car, Bao climbing back into the driver’s seat to take Keiko and Jiro back to the office. 

“This is weird. I’m sorry,” he said once they pulled away.

“It is,” she acknowledged, but she could feel a smile creeping onto her face. 

“Asami hired them for me. I tried to talk her out of Jiro, but as much of an asshole as he is, he knows what he’s doing.”

She chuckled. “It’s ok. It might shock you, but the Avatar gets to meet a lot more charmers like that than you’d think.”

“Then it’s a wonder you’re still single,” he said, and she practically shouted with shocked laughter as she shifted the paving stones under his feet and watched him lose his balance. 

“Watch your mouth,” she said, holding out a hand to help him up. “Or I might be forced to ruin that gorgeous suit.”

“Will dumplings be an acceptable peace offering?” he asked, holding out an elbow. 

She looped her arm through his, apprehensive but somehow eager for the closeness, her heart picking up its pace in spite of her efforts to assure it this was no big deal. “It was…interesting seeing you in there,” she started as they walked toward the pier. They didn’t even have to discuss where the dumplings were coming from. 

“Good interesting?”

“I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”

The evening was cool and clear, the last bit of light disappearing over the bay. His gait was easy, and she let herself be swept along, listening to the sound of their feet scraping along the pavement. They didn’t talk a lot. It didn’t feel like they needed to.

“I can’t believe this place is still here, she said when they reached the dumpling stand near the water. 

“It’s been here as long as I can remember. If Vaatu ever comes back here, and you’re not around to stop it, the last thing left will be this dumpling stand.”

At the window, Korra grinned at the old man taking orders and minding the till. His eyes sprung open wide as the rim of a wok. “It’s the Avatar!” He turned around faster than seemed possible for one his age and screamed toward the tiny kitchen no more than a few feet away. “MOTHER, GET OUT HERE, THE AVATAR’S BACK!”

A plump, wizened face peeked out from the doorway, and “Mother” squeezed herself forcefully into the narrow space behind the counter with her husband. “Oh my oh my oh my,” she kept saying, shaking her hands and then cupping Korra’s face with them. She still smelled of fryer oil and freshly made dough, exactly like Korra remembered.

“It’s good to see you,” Korra said.

“Oh honey, we heard you were coming back, but you just got here today, right?”

“I did.”

“And you’re coming here?”

“Where else would I go?”

“Oh honey honey honey. You look so thin, I think I could break you. You want your favorite?”

“Of course.” Korra was struggling to hold back laughter. “You remember?”

“Oh honey, I never forget.”

The old woman swung back into the kitchen.

“So you’re voting for our young Mako here, aren’t you?”

She laughed again. “I dunno. Do you think I should?”

“I think he’s worth more than the whole lot of them combined. We’re expecting great things from this one here.” He winked in Mako’s direction, and she could see the color creeping up from his collar.

Their bag of dumplings was presented along with a cascade of sloppy kisses, and they bid farewell to the old couple before turning toward the walk that led all the way to the Air Temple Island ferry, eating while they walked and talking. Within minutes it was like he was walking her home in the days between Amon and Unalaq, and Korra couldn’t remember the last time things had felt this comfortable between them. It was as if their whole messy history had been, well, not erased so much as placed in its proper perspective. The cuts had scarred over and faded, the bruises long since healed.

“I was sorry to hear about your wedding, by the way,” she said, feeling a little mischievous. She wasn’t sorry, and she was treading onto ground she knew to be dangerous. But the euphoria of the evening had started to get into her bones, and it felt like they could say or do anything they wanted.

He looked at her quizzically. “That was broken off two years ago.”

She shrugged. “I haven’t seen you in three. And as I recall, we didn’t part on the best of terms.”

It was his turn to shrug. “We kissed.” It wasn’t the whole truth. It had been more than a kiss. 

“You were with someone else,” she said, and he resumed a thoughtful expression. 

“So what about you and what’s his face?”

Now it was her turn to look confused. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The guy, you know, with the hair and the face. Some lesser Fire Nation prince or something.” He placed most of the emphasis on “lesser.”

A spark of realization hit her, and she started laughing so hard she had to pee all of a sudden. “Not a thing, Mako.”

He got a little bit red and shrugged. “I thought read something in the papers.” 

That picture was taken almost eight months ago, she thought. And it had been a few dates, a half-decent lay, but nothing more than that. It somehow pleased her to think that he’d been holding onto that for so long.

“Don’t believe everything you read.”

They stopped to lean against the railing and look out at the light from the island tower. Their shoulders were almost touching. She watched his hands dangle toward the beach, and she thought about what might happen if she took one of them in hers. Then maybe she could grab him by his coat and kiss him. She’d done it before. But as beautiful as the night was and as electric as the air was between them, she knew it wasn’t time. She knew that someone might see, and being out with him was already perilous with the election approaching. And besides, their last parting had been with her heart bare to him, no less exposed than if she’d been sliced in half, and that was a scar that still showed if she dared to look at it. If for some reason something happened between them, she wanted to make him fight for it a little bit.

But still, he was too much fun to pick on.

“And you? You have a date for this thing tomorrow?”

“Why? Are you asking?” She could have wiped the shit eating grin off his face with a punch or her tongue down his throat. She didn’t really care which. 

“Your campaign manager would love that, wouldn’t he?”

“Probably.”

“Then you can both go fuck yourselves.”

He laughed and her head felt light. She pushed off from the rail and started to back toward the street. “I’d better get a cab back to Asami’s,” she said. 

“You want some company?”

There was a look in his eye that made her think of reckless nights past, when he’d feel her up in the taxi, getting her so close to the point of climax that she would have to stagger into the apartment before tearing his clothes off. 

But that probably wasn’t what he had in mind this time. Still, she smirked back, “I can take care of myself. Besides, you’re going in the opposite direction if I’m remembering right.”

He was still leaning on the rail when a cab pulled up. “See you tomorrow,” she said, waving. And as it drove off, she had to stop herself from turning to see how long he stayed standing there, watching her leave.


	2. Chapter 2

On the map laid out on the table, the city was divided into dozens of tiny chunks, red lines bisecting neighborhoods and slicing up city blocks. In each small segment, there was a red dot with a number on it.

“Voting districts and polling stations,” said the weasel-faced official to Korra’s left. “Everyone is assigned a station based on their registered address, and on Election Day, they go to that station and have their name crossed off the official list to make sure no one tries to vote in more than one district.”

“What if you don’t have an address?” Korra inquired. It seemed like a fairly obvious question to ask, but after a moment with no answer, she looked to see the official glancing perturbedly at one of his colleagues, a doughy individual with no chin, as if this was the first they’d ever heard of it. It was the end of a long series of briefings that had started early in the morning, and she was getting tired of blank looks and slack jaws every time she raised an issue like this.

“I’m serious, gentlemen. What about people with no registered address?” She looked to President Raiko for help.

The weasel-faced official started stammering. “You mean…um…people…like…um…”

“Homeless people, people who move around a lot without notifying the government…” she looked around the room waiting for someone to show a sign of recognition.

“This is how it’s been done for the past three elections, Avatar Korra,” said Raiko, his face characteristically impassive.

“So no homeless or itinerant people have been allowed to vote in almost twelve years.”

“Are you suggesting they should?” this from the guy with no chin. 

She continued to search all the faces in the room, more than a little incredulous. “Yeah, that’s kind of what I’m suggesting. Or aren’t you aware that a shocking number of the homeless here are military veterans.” She was thinking especially of a man who had been there for her and her friends in their moment of greatest need when the city was under the control of a maniac bloodbender.

“Avatar Korra, with all due respect, the poverty situation among veterans isn’t relevant to how we carry out elections.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it is relevant.” No Chin was staring apprehensively at her, looking from her eyes down to a spot below her on the table, where she was leaning on the weight of her hand. She looked down and saw a bit of smoke slip between her fingers. A scorch mark was forming underneath her palm, and when she suddenly withdrew it, a blackened patch in the shape of her hand was left behind. “Sorry,” she said.

Raiko cleared his throat. “Avatar Korra, as we discussed…as I thought we agreed, your role here isn’t to set policy. We’ve been running elections in this city for a decade. You are here because the atmosphere surrounding this one is more…heated shall we say, and we just want to keep things from getting out of hand.”

“Understood,” she said, clenching her teeth and desperately wanting to get out of the room already. Since when had her “role” become just trying to avoid pissing people off? It was the first day, and already things didn’t seem to be going well in that department. Impartiality had always been critical to her involvement—or non-involvement—in Republic City politics, but increasingly impartiality seemed to mean never having an opinion. About anything. 

“We could use your help ensuring that peace is maintained, particularly as Election Day approaches. There have been intimations of violence from certain quarters. Chief Bei Fong has promised maximum police presence, and I can call in the United Forces, but…”

“But you risk looking like you’ve militarized the city on your Big Day of Democracy.”

“Precisely.”

“I meet with Lin tomorrow. I was briefed by her deputy today. I’ll be working with them to see what kind of support I can provide.”

“Thank you,” said Raiko, nodding his head slightly. His salt and pepper hair was completely white now, and his face showed the results of a decade of governing. “I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you tonight, yes?”

“The pleasure will be mine,” she said, not bothering to conceal the chill in her voice. 

Raiko cleared his throat, and she reached out to shake the hands of Weasel Face and No Chin before heading out of the big office, toward the building exit, and away from City Hall, quickening her pace as she went back to where Naga was waiting patiently.

As she rounded the corner of the building, a canvasser stepped in between her and the polarbear dog to force a piece of paper into her hands. He beamed at her out of a face that was doing its best imitation of sincerity. “Vote for Sendaq, Miss,” he said. “The one candidate who promises to keep the Triads in check.” 

She rolled her eyes and tried to hand it back, but he kept smiling at her without really looking at her, hands locked firmly behind his back.

“Excuse me,” she said, shoving past him while balling up the pamphlet in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket, refraining from setting fire to it where people would be able to see her. She glanced at it as she did so. The face on the front was sort of familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

…

How did I come to this conclusion, she thought as she rode away, that neutrality was the way to go. She wasn’t sure that it was ever her idea in the first place. Perhaps it was one of those things that had just been said often enough that it had taken on the character of truth. Perhaps it was during the Water Tribe Civil War, when she had failed at neutrality so spectacularly and plunged her family even deeper into an intractable feud. Taking sides, even when she was sure she was right, hadn’t always served her well. So maybe neutrality had simply become the least bad option, the choice with the least likelihood of producing catastrophe. 

The circumstances of this election were rather unique, but these were thoughts that had begun visiting her more and more frequently over the years as she was drawn into conflicts ranging from a border dispute between two Fire Nation towns to a succession battle in Omashu. People always wanted her to mediate, but they also wanted her to firmly take their side. Things would be so much easier if her words simply carried the weight of law, but that was an entirely different terrible idea. 

It was at times like this when she found herself wandering into the spirit forests, and so she took a left turn at City Hall to venture into an incursion so narrow you could almost touch the north and south sides of it if you stood smack in the middle. Even with the city on either side of her, she could step into the otherworldly light and feel transported. 

Thin tree trunks marched in soldierly columns on either side of a green expanse, but overhead, their branches became rebellious, snaking aggressively toward one another, drawing their neighbors into a tangled embrace and creating a dense canopy overhead. Between the branches, little lights danced, and she could catch sight of a rodent-like spirit before it vanished into murk. The spirits tended to stay small and hidden so close to civilization.

To the west was a small shrine, little more than a ring of stones and a makeshift fountain, and dismounting Naga, she walked toward it and sat in the center, her legs lotus-form, hands draped easily over her knees. She could meditate all the way to the Spirit World if she wanted. In times of need, she and Jinora would meditate from spots exactly like this and meet there. But she had no time for that right now. Though the spirits lived alongside humans now, they could not help her with dilemmas like these. They understood little of human laws and customs and cared for them even less.

So she meditated until the sound of her heartbeat was her only sensation. She felt her mind clear. But as much as she had improved at this, when she came out of it, she never felt quite like she was told she should feel. Avatars could never reach enlightenment, Tenzin had told her once. They remained tied to the cycle of samsara in order to be reborn again and again. It was yet another sacrifice, though Wan was never aware that he had made it.

…

Asami’s house was alive with preparations, staff and caterers scrambling like ants, carrying impossible loads of glassware and frippery from room to room. Korra’s first instinct upon arriving was to flee, but she was snared almost instantly by her hostess and dragged toward the wood-paneled office.

“How was the meeting with the President?” Asami asked, barely making eye contact before rifling through a pile on her desk.

“Almost completely pointless. Absence hasn’t done very much for our relationship. By the way, did you know that you can’t vote if you don’t have a registered address in the city?”

“You can’t?” Asami looked at her quizzically.

“No. Voting stations are assigned by address, and…”

“Oh…I guess I never really thought about it.”

Korra chewed her lip. “So what did you need?”

“Well…” her friend seemed hesitant to start. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Then I do not like the sound of it.”

Asami found the newspaper she was looking for in the stack, a page from that day’s Society section, folded neatly so that a single item was at the center. She passed it across the desk to Korra. “Does this look familiar?”

It was a picture of a couple standing on the walk overlooking the water, the man in a handsome suit and the woman in a fitted trench coat, a hat tipped jauntily over…shit.

“Read the caption,” said Asami.

“‘Avatar Korra in a clandestine meeting with Senate Candidate Mako.’ I should never have let you guys talk me into going.”

“Korra…”

“One day,” she said, punctuating each word by slapping the paper against the desk. “I wasn’t even here one day. And we were just talking for crying out loud.”

“It’s ok, Korra. Everyone knows you’re friends. You’re staying here after all, and everyone knows we support Mako.”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’ on the other end of this.”

Asami nodded. “The managers for the other two candidates called.”

“And?”

“And they both want a photo op with you tonight.”

Korra felt like this still was not the other shoe. “Ok. Done. Is there more?”

“It’s kind of stupid.”

“Everything about this is kind of stupid. What is it?”

“Candidate Etsuko’s manager also asked that I ask you to not wear blue.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“Sendaq, the candidate, is from the Northern Water Tribe. She is worried that if you wear blue…”

“People will suddenly remember that I’m water tribe?”

“In her words, ‘it could create an unconscious association in people’s minds.’”

“Ok, no blue.”

Asami continued to look uncomfortable. “No red either. Because Mako…”

“I like the black dress best anyway.”

“And one more thing.”

Korra sighed and rubbed at her temples. This was Omashu all over again.

“It has been requested that you not dance with either of the male candidates.”

“What about the female candidates?”

“Korra…”

“Do the candidates have opinions about how I do my hair?”

“Look, I was just asked to pass this along.”

“Also, ‘it has been requested?’”

“Look, I’m sorry. You don’t have to listen to any of it if you don’t want to.” Asami’s eyes were large and remorseful. 

Korra looked at her for a moment and felt her annoyance crumble into resignation. “I’ll play along,” she said. “This election is over when?”

“27 days.”

“Not soon enough.”

“Korra, I do feel like on some level this is my fault…”

“Asami…” Korra was starting to feel like shit for a whole new reason.

“You two hadn’t talked in three years. He was so excited to get to see you again. I just…”

“He was?” She felt the back of her neck get unpleasantly hot.

“In that Mako way of his. I could tell.”

Korra searched for a response but came up empty. “It’s not your fault, Asami. You run almost everything in this city, but you can’t actually make me do anything.”

“Well, don’t let them push you around either. Dance with him if you want to.” There was a look in her eye like she knew something.

The heat crept toward her face, and Korra felt the need of escape before Asami could accuse her of blushing. So before turning to leave, she snorted as if the idea were preposterous to her. “Like I would.”

…

Mako had never really talked with Korra about his time with Asami, and Asami had never been eager to bring it up either. The time they’d spent as anything resembling a couple had been extremely brief in the grand scheme of things, but Korra had always envied the way they had settled so easily into a friendly rhythm over the years, well before Asami had even met her husband, with whom she shared a similar—though far more romantic—ease. It was a special ability Asami had, to fit into the lives of other people so comfortably, to find that particular space where she was needed. And it was one that Korra had long ago given up on achieving. Where Asami was a warm cup of tea by the fire, she was the spark that set the rug ablaze. 

Korra had burned her way into the lives of everyone she’d ever loved, setting her brand into their skin, marking them forever as having belonged to her even if only for a moment. Though it had to be added up in chunks spread out over the course of years, she and Mako had come together for long enough in total that she was surprised she hadn’t used him up, couldn’t believe that he didn’t run from her the moment she came into view. 

And as if she were seventeen all over again, she found herself wanting him to turn toward her flame once more, though she knew all too well the potential consequences, remembered all too keenly what had precipitated three years of keeping a safe distance, of silence she always promised she’d break but never did until now because it was the only way she had known how to keep from ruining both their lives. Whenever he was around, she became a girl who once snuck into the pro-bending arena and wanted him, in spite of herself, to notice her. And she hated him for making her need that. And she hated him when he failed her. 

Korra turned to the mirror to inspect the damage. The black dress had a drop waist but still managed to show off her curves. The neckline was high, but the cowl in back swooped almost all the way down to her hips, leaving the muscled expanse of her back exposed. It was too long for her, even with heeled shoes, and the skirt brushed the ground ever so slightly when she walked. Asami gave her several long necklaces, as was the style, and sent her stylist around to mess with Korra’s hair so that it was swept off her face, soft curls falling elegantly around her shoulders. She got dressed up like this a couple of times a year, always with help, but it never felt quite natural. She suspected that it wasn’t supposed to. 

…

Downstairs, at the front entrance, Korra fell into her spot on the receiving line between Asami and the President, desperately trying to keep up her small talk with the guests to avoid being drawn into conversation with Raiko. Flashbulbs were popping from every direction, leaving spots of light to cloud her vision. Her smile felt painted on, though there were a handful of people she was certainly happy to see. Jinora and Pema walked in arm and arm, the former’s chestnut hair shaved halfway back her head to reveal airbender tattoos. She was a nose taller than Korra now, long and regal in saffron robes. 

“I saw your Dad a few weeks ago down South,” Korra said, wondering why she didn’t see her mentor standing with the both of them. “He said he’d be back with Kya by now.”

“Gran Gran needed them to stay a little longer,” Jinora said, pulling Korra into a hug. “It will just be a couple more days.”

Korra nodded. “We’ll talk later,” she said, looking to the next person in line. It was a squarely built man in a blue suit, the trim identifiably Water Tribe. 

“Avatar Korra, this is Sendaq,” said the President. The man in front of her was short enough to be eye level with her. His were ice blue, set deep in a lined face that managed to be intimidating and handsome all at the same time. 

“I recognize you,” she said. And it wasn’t from the pamphlet.

He finished her thought. “We served on Tarrlok’s task force together, may he rest.”

The mention of Tarrlok brought back unpleasant memories. She frowned a little but remained cordial. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she lied, promptly turning to the next person in line. 

Several places down, she encountered an imposing woman, built like a probending veteran who had put on a little extra flesh in retirement. Her hair was white and wiry, teased out from her head so that when it caught the light from the flashbulbs, it looked almost like a halo. 

“My dear,” she said, taking Korra’s outstretched hand in both of hers, the first of the strangers she had met so far not to use her formal title.

“This is Etsuko, the third candidate for the Republic City seat,” intoned Raiko.

“Or the first, depending on whom you ask.”

“I only meant that you are the last the Avatar has encountered since arriving at Republic City.”

“Yes,” she paused to look knowingly into Korra’s face. “But not the last to arrive tonight. Where is Mako anyway?”

Korra opened her mouth to say she didn’t know, but the older woman just winked at her discomfiture.

“Relax, dear.” Her tone was motherly in a way that seemed calculated to draw Korra in even as it set her on edge. She felt as if Etsuko was about three steps ahead of everyone in the room, including herself. Her green eyes sparked with subtle intelligence, and Korra felt like she was a text this woman was reading with remarkable clarity. “You look stunning in that dress, by the way.” 

The receiving line moved on just as Korra realized she hadn’t uttered a single word in response. 

…

Her more tiresome, official duties over, Korra fetched a glass of wine and found a spot near a column to drink it—wishing it were something stronger—before diving back into the fray. She was tossing back the last few sips when she felt fingertips brush against her arm and then a hand come to rest on her bicep from behind. “Hey,” said a voice she recognized without even having to look.

“Trying to make an entrance?”

“I hate that receiving line shit.”

“Cool Guy’s still a cool guy, huh?”

“And we were late coming from a meeting.”

“Well, your opponents all got to take pictures with me in front of the reporters. They’ll probably be on the front page.”

“Lucky them.”

She still hadn’t turned to look at him, but she could feel him close, his breath disturbing strands of hair at the top of her head. People could see them, she knew, and in a second, she became angry. 

“Speaking of which…” she said, turning sharply and away from his body. “Go shake hands for a few minutes while I get another drink. Then meet me in Haruto’s library. We need to talk.”

Her voice brooked no dissent. She spun on her heel and did her best to disappear into a cluster of people on her way to the bar. Minutes later, a glass of red in hand, she made her way to the library. It was a spectacular room, lined floor to ceiling with bookcases, but the doors were kept closed when parties like this were in progress. These books weren’t for show. Volumes were stacked near chairs and spread open on a desk. This was a workspace, and Haruto liked to keep it private. 

She thumbed idly through an atlas for a minute or two before she heard the door open and close behind her. Mako approached her cautiously, like a prey animal stepping into a clearing. 

“Did you know about this picture of us from last night?”

“Not until this morning.”

“So your people didn’t have anything to do with it? I mean what the fuck, Mako? You know what I’m trying to do here…”

“We didn’t have anything to do with it.” His voice was emphatic, defensive, and she could see he was mad too. “Do you honestly think…”

“That manager of yours.”

“Jiro works for me. Everything he does goes through me. I wouldn’t let him do that to you, ok?”

She just kept staring at him. His eyes were blazing with sincerity, and she still felt exposed. She folded her arms in front her body. “Ok,” she finally said.

“I thought we were getting along.”

Her eyes fell to the floor, where she dug at a hole in the carpet with the toe of her shoe. “We are.”

His feet came into her field of vision, and when she looked up, he was close enough that she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “Did it create problems for you?” He looked genuinely concerned, and her resolve to be mad at him crumbled. 

“There were calls. The other candidates suddenly became very concerned with who I talk to and what I wear tonight.”

He stepped back just a little bit, and she felt his eyes appraise her, taking in her whole body. “Looks nice,” he said. “I’ve never seen you in black.”

“You’ve seen me wear a black dress before.”

“I don’t think so.”

She was leaning against Haruto’s desk, and in her imagination, she saw herself grab Mako by the lapels and kiss him fiercely. And he would lift her effortlessly onto it before running his hands under her skirt from her ankles to her thighs.

“Do you want me to stay away from you?” he asked, breaking the fantasy. He looked contrite, pliant, like for once in his life he would do precisely as she asked. 

Her throat felt suddenly dry, and she reached for the glass of wine that she had set on the desk. “No,” she whispered, running a finger over the rim.

The atmosphere got so heavy that it was difficult to breathe, and she no longer trusted herself in the same room with him. So she took her wine glass and brushed past, casting a glance at him, still standing in his spot as she went out the door and found her way back through the maze of corridors to the crowd.

…

After speeches and dinner service, Korra sat by herself at a table, pushing around the last few bites of her cake while watching couples dance. She could see Mako talking to people whose names she couldn’t remember across the room, and once or twice, she thought she saw him glance at her. She found herself wanting him to look at her, wanting him to want to come talk to her, even if she was also pretty sure it was a bad idea.

“I’m sorry if what I said earlier put you off your dessert,” said a voice, and she saw the imposing shape of Etsuko take up a chair positioned perfectly to block Korra’s view of Mako. 

She sat up a little straighter in her seat, surprised and suddenly on guard, eager to appear unflustered by this woman’s unsettling ability to cut to the heart of the matter.

“Not at all,” said Korra. “You haven’t said anything that…”

“Oh yes I have,” Etsuko said, picking up someone else’s half-drunk wine glass and having a sip. “I’ve said appalling things.”

Once again, Korra wasn’t sure what the next move was. 

“Except for the thing about you wearing your tribe’s colors. That was at my manager’s fault.”

“Tell me,” said Korra, leaning back, ready to be frank and straightforward if this woman was. “Is being an asshole one of the prerequisites for the job of political manager?”

Etsuko bellowed out a hearty laugh. “I think one has to be stripped of all common sense and human decency to even consider the job. Honestly, dear, I couldn’t care less what you wear. Or who you fuck.”

Korra crossed her legs reflexively and scowled. “I’m not fucking anybody.”

“But that’s not the point, is it?”

“No, it’s not.” She didn’t bother to conceal the acid in her voice.

“The point is that it’s none of my fucking business. Or anyone else’s, right?”

Korra took a drink—her fourth glass of the night—and smiled a little over the rim. “I like how you think.”

“The truth is I let my manager make those requests of Ms. Sato because I was eager to see what you would do.”

“And?’

“Doesn’t it get exhausting,” she began, looking pointedly at Korra’s face, “calculating every single move so as to piss off the least number of people in any given room?”

Korra shrugged. “Some concessions are easy to make.”

“If they’re easy to make, then they should be easy to refuse. You surprise me. I’ve followed your career, young lady, and it seems to me that there was a time when you weren’t afraid to break a few windows.”

“I got tired of getting arrested.”

“And the people you care about too, I’m guessing.”

Korra just looked back at her. Etsuko’s face was soft and sympathetic. Though her motives were still impossible to discern, Korra liked the way the older woman cut through the bullshit. “What do you want from me?” she said because she felt some request was in the offing.

“Nothing,” Etsuko responded, and Korra just rolled her eyes, having heard these kinds of false refusals before. “I mean it,” she said, and Korra felt skinless under the woman’s gaze. “I don’t want your endorsement, and I don’t need your friendship. And I want you to hear that from me.”

“Why?”

“Because if this is supposed to be a democracy, then what the Avatar thinks and does shouldn’t be allowed to carry so much weight that you have to fall all over yourself trying to look ‘neutral.’”

Once again, this was a response Korra couldn’t have anticipated, and she found herself appraising it with equal parts curiosity and resentment. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice if what you wore and who you took to bed was no more important than it was for anyone else? Think about it.” Etsuko stood up from her chair and made as if to leave, but not before drawing a card from the front of her dress and handing it over. It smelled like her perfume. “Come by headquarters sometime if you get a chance. I don’t want your endorsement, but you might enjoy seeing how this whole election thing really works without Raiko’s cronies painting the picture for you.”

Korra took the card gingerly and ran a thumb over the embossed address. Etsuko’s gaze turned upward. “And here’s someone I’ve been dying to see.” The candidate gathered another body into a hug, and only when it pulled away did Korra realize that it was Bolin. Etsuko grabbed his chin with one strong hand and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Bo, you’re friends with…”

“Bolin transcends politics,” Etsuko said. 

“I’m actually here to collect the Avatar’s debt,” he said, winking at Etsuko and holding out a hand to Korra. 

“Then allow me to get out of your way.” She nodded at both of them as Korra took Bolin’s hand in relief and let him lead her out to the dance floor.

“You’re late,” she said, slapping him lightly on the back of the head before letting her hand rest on his shoulder.

“My date got the flu.” He said this as if it explained why he was late. Korra knew better than to inquire further. “What do you think of Etsuko?” he asked.

“She’s strange. How do you know her?” 

“She’s a big supporter of the movers—been to set a whole bunch of times. She has a funny way of speaking. It kind of puts some people off at first.”

“I’ll say…”

“But you get used to it the longer you know her. She’s just one of those people who are not all that interested in appearances.”

“So why does she hang out with actors?”

“We may pretend to be other people sometimes, Korra. But no one knows how much bullshit this all is like actors.” He gestured around the room, and for a moment, she saw the crowd, from President Raiko down to the catering staff, precisely as he must see it. It was a set. They were all acting their part while pretending like they weren’t. Even her.

“At least at the end of the day, you take off your costume,” she said, completing his thought.

He shrugged. “Not all of us.”

The song changed, and a hand came to rest on Bolin’s shoulder. “My turn, bro.” And before Korra could utter a word of protest, she was in Mako’s arms, his hand settling on the bare middle of her back, scorching the skin beneath his palm. She always had to stand closer to him when they danced to make up for the difference in height. His lips were level with her forehead, just close enough that they would brush against it if she moved. 

I said I wouldn’t do this. The words almost formed on her lips, but then she remembered what Etsuko had just said, and even though she wasn’t sure yet if she could trust her, she let the woman’s lesson be her guide. But as if he sensed or anticipated her self-consciousness, she felt him guide her further into the pack of dancers, away from flashbulbs and the watchful eyes of onlookers. The people around them were paying attention only to each other. Through a gap between heads, she saw Asami and her husband swaying together, and when both women locked eyes for a second, Asami winked, and Korra felt her ribs get tight. What was this, exactly? What did he think it was?

She felt pressed for something to say, something to cut through the heat and the charged silence. But the things she wanted most to say—I missed this, I’m sorry, I should have—cleaved to the back of her throat. 

“I really did have fun catching up with you last night,” he said, saving her from thoughts that where spiraling in directions she feared to travel. 

“I did too,” she responded, and the hand on her back adjusted, not moving exactly but making her aware, once again, that he was touching her.

“I’m sorry I never wrote to you,” he said. And it stunned her. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t feel like I had a right after…you were just gone, and I didn’t…”

“It’s ok,” she whispered, her breath faltering. She’d been operating under the belief that the silence was her idea, her fault. She lifted her head to meet his eyes and accidentally bumped noses with him. She stammered an apology, but he refused to move his head, continuing to let the tip of his nose brush against the ridge of hers. She was paralyzed for a second, her arms draped lifelessly over his shoulders. And then his head dipped a bit, and she felt his lips touch hers so lightly she could barely be sure it happened. 

But then the heat in her body suddenly became overwhelming, and she could feel disembodied stares burning against her skin, voices screaming what the fuck are you doing? So she pushed off of him, a hand against his chest. “I forgot something upstairs,” she said. It was the first excuse she could think of, and she needed to get somewhere where she could breathe or scream or…something. 

Maybe he’ll follow me, she thought before cursing herself for thinking it. When she reached the long staircase, she gathered her skirt in her hands, hoisting it above her knees so she could take the steps two at a time. The silk would wrinkle, but she didn’t care. By the time she was wrapped up in the dark of her room, the sounds of the party seemed distant, like they were coming from another reality, a faint murmur against the frantic thrumming of her pulse. 

Five minutes passed, and her brain no longer felt like it was cooking in adrenaline. But then a knock came at the door, and her breath caught in her throat once more. 

“Come in,” she said so quietly it seemed scarcely possible that anyone else could hear it. But the door opened anyway, and it was him.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he began. 

“It’s ok,” she heard herself say. “Hardly anyone could see.”

“I got caught up. It just…last night and…it felt like something was happening? Between us?”

She laughed breathlessly. “Seems like something’s always happening. Honestly, it’s like I never left.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

It felt like a replay of so many scenes that had happened between them before. She felt herself falling back into the old pattern, and it was like falling into a soft feather bed. When he reached for her, his hands were bruising, one tangling itself in her hair while the other wrapped around her waist. She tasted his mouth, sweet with delicious hurt, and his tongue traced the lines of her teeth. 

Her hands found their way to his lapels and helped him off with his jacket before ripping off his tie. “I really have changed a lot,” she protested, smiling against his lips. “I’m a lot more careful. I don’t rush into things anymore.”

“I never wanted you to be anything other than what you were,” he said, and his fingers were fumbling with the three buttons that kept her dress in place at the hips. When they gave, she felt the whole thing begin to collapse. His hands pushed the shoulder straps down and reveal the architectural undergarments that were holding all her curves in place. “Well, this is just not fair,” he said, fingertips skimming over the stays.

“Burn it all off, for all I care,” she replied, and he reached down to grab her ass, lifting her up as she threw her legs around his waist. He crushed her into the bed, mouth latched onto her neck, breath sticking to her skin. 

“We are going to have to go back down there eventually,” he said.

“Not before I fuck you.”

He pushed more of his weight into her, and she could feel him hard and straining through his clothes. Gripping her hips and locking her down, he kissed his way down her torso, biting to get at her skin through the lingerie. “I beg your pardon,” he huffed against her stomach, and in one swift move, he pushed the panties down and pressed his tongue against her sex, pulling her nerves taut as he moved upward.

She gasped and dug her head into the mattress. “Dick,” she said, groaning unngh as his tongue swirled haphazardly over her clit. 

“Not before you come for me,” he said, and she dug the nails of one hand into his scalp to punish him for the bad joke. He gripped her thigh harshly in response and with his other hand drove two fingers deep inside her. It wasn’t fair, the way he knew almost every secret of her body, the rough way she liked to be handled. As her gasps got more desperate, he pulled away briefly and ran his nails harshly down her thighs, one of them catching a little on her stockings, before plunging back into her, tongue working against her as her body bent and twisted in search of release. 

She felt the forces inside of her gathering like a storm, and just as it was about to break, her mouth fell open. But the scream she heard didn’t come from her mouth. In fact, it sounded like a lot of screams, all coming from far away. All coming from downstairs. They both froze, and after a second, the sound of an explosion came from outside, and the entire house vibrated, crystals on the light fixtures clinking together almost musically. 

Mako released his hold on her, and Korra composed herself, twisting around to see a cloud of black smoke outside the window, illuminated softly from below by twisting spires of red and gold.


	3. Chapter 3

“What do you see?” asked Korra, struggling back into her dress while Mako looked out the window. Her breath came shallowly, a mixture of lingering arousal, adrenaline, and the constriction of her undergarments.

He was quiet for a second, squinting into the smoke-scoured night. “I think someone blew up a Satomobile.”

“Anyone in it?”

“I can’t tell.” 

He pressed his cheek against the glass, trying to get a look at the entrance to the mansion. Korra listened. The panicked screams that had interrupted them initially had died down, but there were shouts that could be heard just above the pounding of her pulse. Men’s voices. 

“It sounds like someone’s trying to take over the house.”

“I think you’re right,” he said. “I see two…three guards down at the entrance.”

“Can you see the attackers?”

“No.”

She fluffed her hair as he turned back around to face her, trying to look composed as she steeled herself for whatever they were about to face. “Well, let’s not keep them waiting,” she said.

He followed her toward the door, his jacket and tie still removed. “Let’s at least try to get a sense of what’s going on before we go charging in there,” he said.

“Charging? Me?” 

He was visibly unamused. She sighed, a little perturbed that he still thought of her as heedless, even more perturbed that he wasn’t completely wrong. Fighting the impulse to get downstairs as quickly as possible, she explored alternatives. “We’ll take the back way down toward the kitchen,” she conceded. “With any luck, we’ll catch them by surprise.”

Leaving the guest room, they headed down the hall toward the back of the house. Taking a left, they went through the door that led to a hallway only used by the household staff. The quarters for the butler and live-in servants were just beyond. There wasn’t a soul to be found. Everyone was downstairs working the party. She wondered how many of them would be returning to these rooms when whatever was happening was over.

“Any idea who’s behind this?” she asked. The silence was starting to get to her, and she was willing to sacrifice stealth to hear something other than the rapid beating of her heart, even if it was only her own voice.

“How would I know?”

“I don’t know. Raiko said something about unrest surrounding the election.” She was whispering loudly, peering into empty rooms and closets looking for waiting attackers. 

“All I’ve heard about is volunteers getting roughed up and polling stations threatened.”

“Well, all the most powerful people in the city are here at once. Seems like a pretty good opportunity to start some shit.”

“I guess we can hope they’re just here to take everyone’s jewelry and leave.”

“Yeah, I guess,” she said. 

They reached the stairwell that led to the kitchen without incident. But as they began tiptoeing down the three flights, they nearly ran head on into a body that was retreating in the opposite direction. 

“Don’t! Don’t kill me!” the body yelled, and with a quickness, Korra put it in a firm headlock, her hand clamped tight over the gaping mouth. The feel of muscles and nerves immediately submitting to her strength relieved a fragment of the tension that was boiling inside her. 

“Shut up,” she hissed. “We’re here to help.” Whoever she was holding was very tall with a neck like a quill pen that felt like it would snap if she twisted it in just the right way. 

“Bao?” said Mako, incredulously. Korra met his eyes in confusion and saw his signal to let the kid go. She reluctantly relaxed her hold on him. 

“Mako!” he said, still too loud for Korra’s liking. “And who…” He lurched around to see who had been holding him, and when he saw her face, he lost whatever cool he had left.

“Oh my, Korra Avatar, I mean Avatar Korra, I mean ma’am, I’m so sorry I knocked you down. I…”

“What’s going on down there, Bao?” Mako asked, cutting him off midstream. 

He straightened up to his full, awkward height, and Korra could see that there was flop sweat pouring off his face, sweat that she only now realized had left a dark wet mark on her silk dress. 

“Jiro sent me to the kitchen because they ran out of his favorite wine. Everyone was busy, so they just pointed me toward the cellar, and then out of nowhere, I heard shouting. It sounded like something exploded outside, and then I heard them come through the kitchen and yell at everyone to get into the ballroom. I was so scared, I almost shit my…” He looked at Korra and blushed. “I was really scared.”

“Did you see what they looked like? Were they benders?”

“I peeked through the door. I think some of them were benders, but I only got a good look at one guy, and he looked like maybe he had explosives taped to him. But who would do something like that?”

Korra felt bumps form on her skin, a chill so potent she could feel it in her teeth. She’d heard of this sort of thing before, people so desperate to make a point they would blow themselves up. They sat looking at each other for a few seconds, answerless. 

“I should go down there,” she said, feeling that whatever these people wanted, she probably had something to do with it. As usual. “Mako, you find a way to get him out of here.”

“They’re looking for you.” Bao’s head snapped toward her, as if he had read her prior thought. “They said to search the house for the Avatar.”

“Korra, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” said Mako, exactly as she expected him to. 

“But if it’s me they want, then maybe they’ll let everyone else go.”

“But you have no idea what they want from you.”

“I’m not afraid to be a prisoner, Mako. I can protect myself.”

At that second, a crash came from the bottom of the stairwell, and Korra realized the kitchen door had been kicked in. Mako grabbed her hand and pulled her hard in the direction that led back to the staff’s quarters. “We’re hiding,” he whispered. “Then we’ll decide what to do.”

There wasn’t time to plead her case, so she let herself be dragged along. Mako led the way back to the utility passage, where he stopped suddenly. “What are we doing?” she whispered, and then the lights in the hall flickered and shut off. She heard a shout and then the sound of people fumbling on the other side of the door behind them. She got herself into a fighting stance.

“Korra, hold on,” Mako said. He was feeling around on the wall, running his fingers over the grooves between the bricks. 

“Whatever it is you’re doing, you need to get on with it.”

The second she got the last word out, his fingers found what they were looking for, and like magic, the wall gave way, rolling aside to reveal a narrow passage that led into impenetrable darkness. 

“In,” he said, and Bao swiftly complied. Korra remained in her stance for a few seconds, giving into her preference for fighting over being trapped inside a wall. 

“Korra, if he’s right…if you attack them, and they’re carrying bombs…”

“Alright,” she gave in, not needing hear him say, one bad hit and you’ll blow us all up. She ducked into the passage and heard the wall slide shut again. The darkness folded around them, and all she could hear was the damp, panicked breathing of Bao, Mako’s steady exhalations, and the frantic calculations that were running through her own head. 

Mako sparked a flame in his hand, throwing eerie shadows over all of their faces. “Bao, buddy, you’re gonna need to calm down, ok?” She saw his other hand reach out to pat Bao’s arm, providing brotherly comfort Korra couldn’t even begin to feel. The ambient panic radiating off the boy was like bugs crawling over her skin. She fussed with the straps of her dress, wishing she could strip down again and fight naked. The silk rasped like burlap, and the stays of her undergarments dug into her ribs and the undersides of her breasts. She bent the sweat off her brow and the back of her neck, and as her hand flew toward the darkness, she felt Mako catch it and squeeze once. She stilled for a second.

“So why weren’t you two down there?” she heard Bao ask, and in the flicker of light from Mako’s other palm, she saw him staring at the both of them. She was glad the darkness covered her blush, and Mako’s mouth hung open for a second before noise from the other side of the false wall caught their attention. 

“We searched this hall already,” a voice shouted to someone far away. Korra was surprised just how clearly she could hear it, thankful that none of the three of them had spoken too loudly. She held her breath, fighting the urge to burst through the partition and battle her way out.

“She’s in the house. We have the exits covered.” The other interlocutor was too far away to hear. It was like listening to one side of a telephone conversation. 

Mako motioned for them to follow. The passage took a sharp left. Twenty or so meters down it opened into a vestibule that contained a table with a radio and a telephone. “Good, she kept it here,” he muttered.

“How did you know about this place?” Korra asked.

“The police searched this place top to bottom after, you know, Hiroshi. There’s secret passages all over the place. If you go further, this goes downstairs and underground. It connects with the tunnels that used to lead to the workshop. Asami kept some of them in case something like this were to happen, to give the staff a chance to escape.”

“Fat lot of good it did.”

“Well, we got away.” He lit a kerosene lamp and started fiddling with the knobs on the radio, static hissing over the small speakers as he adjusted the signal. Bao lowered himself onto a chair, his knobby elbows resting on his knees. 

“How is the radio going to help?”

“It’s a police scanner.” 

She bit her lip, feeling stupid once she saw it. “You think the cops are on it already?”

“The power’s out. I’m guessing that means they’re already here.”

Garbled voices started coming through on the scanner, and she gripped the side of the table, nails digging into the soft wood as she strained to hear. 

“They have control of the house…we need a perimeter…” phrases would get through and then break into static. Mako continued nudging the dial a little each way to try to find a clearer signal.

“Are … of them wired? Over.” 

“Hard to…”

She cursed under her breath, grabbing at the phone. “You think this is a secure line?” 

Mako shrugged. “Seems like a pretty safe bet.”

She got the operator to connect her with the station. The officer on duty was flustered as soon as she announced herself. 

“I’m safe,” she said. “There are two others with me, but I have no idea what’s going on.” She could hear the edge in her voice, but there wasn’t much she could do to cover it. The officer on the other end continued to stammer. “I need you to put me in touch with Bei Fong.”

“Chief Bei Fong is at the scene.”

Mako was staring intently at her. “Ask them to relay a message,” he said.

“Officer,” Korra continued. “Tell Bei Fong I’m hiding in the house.” She covered the microphone and turned to Mako. “Can we get out?”

“I think so.”

She went back to the phone. “Tell her we might be able to reach her.”

A minute passed, and suddenly Bei Fong’s voice came through on the scanner, her tone sharp with urgency. “Everyone is to stay put. All we know is that they promise to blow up the house if anyone tries to escape.”

There was a whimper from Bao. His knees were practically drawn up to his chest. 

“Have they said what they want yet?” she said into the phone.

“They’ve established communication, but no real demands yet. Well, they say they want to make an announcement on the radio…something about what they want the Avatar…I mean you…to do.”

“Ok thanks. I’ll be in touch.” She hung up the line and looked hard at Mako. “I think we need to try to get out of here.”

“Korra…”

“You think they’re going to blow this place up before they get a chance to say what they want to say? They’ve got most of the people I…we love downstairs. Don’t you think they know that’s leverage enough?”

Bao’s quavery, tear-filled voice cut in, “You make it sound like they’re rational. These guys have bombs strapped to their chests…”

“Yeah, which means they have something to lose here too.”

Mako was looking from one to the other, and Korra didn’t like how carefully he seemed to be weighing the opinion of a scared-shitless teenage lickspittle against that of the Avatar. “For fuck’s sake, Mako,” she said.

“I don’t know if people who are willing to blow themselves up for something really see themselves as having ‘something to lose.’”

The air in the tiny room was starting to feel oppressive, and the fumes from the kerosene lamp were headache inducing. “Mako, tell me how to get out of here,” she demanded.

“You do realize that by making that decision, you’re making it for all of us, including the people down there.”

“I tried your way when I let you drag me in here. It’s my turn.” She challenged him with her eyes, and implicit in her gaze was the question how much do you still trust me?

Finally, Mako turned to Bao. “You can stay here if you want. We’ll come back for you when all of this is over.”

“You can’t leave me here by myself,” he said hysterically.

“Then you’re coming.” Mako grabbed him roughly under one skinny arm and lifted him to his feet. As he did so, he gave Korra a hard look, and she reached out to brush the sleeve of his shirt with her fingertips, hoping it was thanks enough. 

Mako led them further down the dark, narrow passage. “Careful,” he said, and she saw him shrink several inches before the floor disappeared under her right foot. Stairs. She caught Bao in the middle of a stumble that might have sent all three of them cascading down in a heap. 

The stairs went down, down, down, all three stories to the ground floor and then even further. The wooden walls turned into dirt ones, and she realized they were headed in a new direction, away from the external walls of the mansion. 

“Where does this come up?” she asked.

“Near the track,” he said. “We’ll have to hoof it from there to the gates and hope that no one sees us.”

Korra re-gathered her skirt in her hands, cursing its length and her uncomfortable shoes. She knelt down to adjust one of the buckles, which is why she was caught off guard when they were suddenly confronted by two dark figures, who sprang on them out of nowhere as they came around a curve. One sent Bao to the ground, and as Korra tried to right herself, the other managed to kick out, foot hitting her square in the chest. Her back hit the wall, and she slid down, lungs straining for oxygen. 

The next thing she saw was a blue flash from the tips of Mako’s fingers, and the entire passage was bathed in ghostly light. She was horror struck, her hands flying over her head in anticipation of the coming explosion. 

But it never came. The passage was silent. She made a fire in her hand and looked around. Bao was on the ground, unconscious. And so were the two attackers. Mako looked at her, his face stricken. “I…I just reacted. I didn’t even…”

“It’s ok,” she said, holding a hand up, still struggling for breath. “We’re safe.”

“You don’t look ok,” he said, grabbing her by the arm and helping her stand.

“I got kicked in the chest…just winded…check him.”

He did as she told him, and while he made sure the kid was still breathing, she let her fire go out so that she could pull the straps of her dress down and fumble with the laces that held the corset in place, trying to get a full breath.

“He’s just knocked out,” said Mako. “Hey, can I help?”

She let her hands drop in gratitude, providing a light while he loosened the ties in back and pulled the two halves apart, letting her ribs expand fully. She braced herself against the wall with her other hand and just enjoyed the feeling of breathing deep while his hands gently massaged her bare skin, his touch intimate and familiar but all too fleeting. A groan came from several feet away, and she could see Bao stirring. She pulled the top of her dress back up to cover herself. 

“Why didn’t we blow up?” she asked. “Were they not wired?”

Mako helped Bao stand while she walked over to the unconscious forms of their attackers. They were wearing black vests with wires sticking out all over them, just like Bao had described. She felt the two of them come to stand over her, and then Mako knelt down and ripped one of the vests open. She watched him feel around. 

“It’s a fake,” he said. “The wires don’t go anywhere. There should be a trigger of some kind.”

“Maybe there are remote detonators,” she offered.

“Maybe,” he said. “But that seems unlikely. We’ll need to talk to a police expert. Help me get the vest off this guy.” She held the man’s torso up while Mako worked it off his arms. There was a pulse still beating at his throat, but he was out cold. As soon as the vest came free, she let his body slump back over.

“We’re leaving them here?” said Bao, still shaky and scared out of his wits.

“Well I’m not carrying them,” she responded. And with the vest in hand, they headed back down the passage. They hit a corner where the wall turned to concrete, and dim light was visible from the ceiling. It was an opening, clearly the ones that their attackers had used. 

“I guess they knew to come look for us here,” Korra said, disturbed by the implications of that fact.

Mako hoisted himself outside and reached back in to help them both out. Korra found herself in a garage, sleek racing vehicles on all sides. When they hit the outside air, she greeted it with relief, feeling like she’d been stuck in that hole for a week. 

On the back side of the garage, she could see a clear path to the main gate and the structured chaos that had gathered there. Airships were flying overhead. Floodlights illuminated the mansion entrance, where the burning wrecks of a few Satomobiles were still piled. The lights of police cruisers made colored patterns on the lawn. 

“Let’s go,” she said, getting ready to sprint in her heeled shoes. What I wouldn’t give for a glider, she thought. 

She was already in motion when another figure in black emerged from the darkness. “Freeze!” it said, but she was ready this time. Her body spun fluidly in the direction of the voice, and her fist connected with the man’s nose, a satisfying crunch and an ungh greeting her ears. She grabbed the guy’s collar with both hands as Mako brought a light close to illuminate his face. 

“I’ll blow us all up if you don’t let me go,” the guy said, nasally, blood smeared across his face. 

“Really? Go right ahead. Because I’m not so sure you actually can,” she said. 

“I’ll do it, I swear,” the man said, and Korra heard a squeak from Bao’s direction. 

“Prove it.” She released her grip on his collar and let him fall to the ground. The man sprang to his feet and looked at each of them, the realization that his bluff was called becoming increasingly evident in his face. He tried to run only to smack into a wall of earth that she raised just behind him. 

“This one we will bring with us,” she said, walking over to the groaning form. “Bao, give me your belt.” 

The teenager promptly obeyed, and Korra bound the man’s hands behind his back.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whined. “We’ll still blow up the house and all the hostages if the Avatar doesn’t call off the election.”

She stopped and spun the guy around by the shoulder. “Excuse me?”

He looked at her fearfully but without apparent recognition. “The election is corrupt. The elites of this city are using it to gather more power at the expense of the rest of the United Republic.” He cast furtive glances in Mako’s direction. “The Red Sands Revolution will make them burn if the Avatar does not restore justice and balance.”

Korra’s stomach started to get tight, and her heart was pounding a little harder inside her chest, but she refused to betray any sense of disturbance as she said, “Get a grip, asshole. I am the Avatar. And I’m not calling off anything.”

His face suddenly filled with…something. It looked sort of like fear but it was also awe. Like he’d seen something not of this world. “But you will, Avatar. It is your destiny. And the Revolution will serve you and only you if you fulfill it.”

She had the sense that these words were not his own, that he had acquired this particular brand of nonsense from some other source. But as much as she tried to ignore him, the words clung to her skin, burrowing deep. In reply, she spun him around again and forced him to march forward with a shove to his back. 

When they were still a good distance from the heaving cluster of police, she whistled, and two dozen metalbenders suddenly lurched in their direction, assuming a fighting stance. 

“It’s Korra,” she yelled.

“Show yourself,” a familiar voice hollered, and as she got closer, she saw the wizened face of Chief Bei Fong materialize. The woman’s face looked stunned and then a little angryas she took Korra’s hand in greeting. “I thought we agreed you would stay put.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to anything. Besides, I brought gifts.” She kicked the back of her captive’s knee and sent him sprawling forward.

“Chief,” said Mako. 

Lin nodded huffily in his direction, and Korra noted that things were clearly still chilly between them. Lin’s expression turned to shock when she saw the torn up vest dangling from his hands, a mess of black fabric and wire. 

“We’re pretty sure the vests are fake,” Korra explained. We had the opportunity to do a couple…uh., field tests, shall we say.”

Bei Fong shouted a name, and a uniformed officer came jogging over. She handed the vest over, and the munitions expert pushed up her glasses and examined the wiring in the glare of the headlights.

“Oh yeah,” she said, ripping one of the compartments open that should have held a charge. She pulled a packet out and cracked it open. “It’s just sand,” she said. 

“Check this guy’s vest,” Bei Fong ordered.

“No,” he whined, but two metalbenders plucked him off the ground like he weighed nothing, and the expert pulled back his jacket and performed a similar examination.

“Also a decoy,” was her verdict. 

“Well, we know they have some explosives,” Bei Fong said, gesturing toward the heap of smoldering Satomobiles at the entrance. She walked up to the captive, suspended between two officers, and stared him dead in the eye, her face an inch from his. “Are all the vests fake?” she asked.

“I’m not telling you anything.” 

“You will soon,” she said coldly, adopting the voice that Korra still felt in her spine whenever she heard it. 

“Lin,” Korra said, not willing to wait to have a few questions answered. “What’s this about calling off the election?”

Bei Fong swung around to face her. “They’re calling themselves…”

“…The Red Sands Revolution. I got that already.”

“Yeah, well, they want you to call off the election.”

“But why me? Why not Raiko or…”

“Because only the Avatar has the authority,” said the captive, toes still dangling inches from the pavement. Korra didn’t like the way he looked at her, the fanaticism in his eyes as unsettling as the threat he represented.

“Yes,” Bei Fong continued. “It seems they have some ideas about what the Avatar’s role in all of this is. And besides, do you really think Raiko…”

“Ok. I see your point. Can I, I dunno, talk to them? Figure out what else is behind this?”

“Is that a good idea?” This from Mako. 

“You have a better one?”

“LI!” Bei Fong shouted. “Get me the link to the house!”

Turning back to Korra, she said, “We established communication with the terrorists, but their leader won’t tell us much.” 

The officer she took to be Li brought over what looked like a radio with a telephone attached. He held the receiver out for her to take. Korra hesitated, uncertain for a second whether she wanted to hear what was on the other end. She looked at Mako, who was standing with arms crossed, his brows furrowed with worry, and then she brought it up to her face. 

“This is Avatar Korra.”


	4. Chapter 4

There was breathing on the other end of the line and then a voice that sounded like molasses, slow and dark and bitter. “Avatar,” it said. “I am sorry for underestimating you.”

She cleared her throat. It was hard to come up with a pithy reply on the spot with Mako and Lin and a crowd of others staring in her direction. “Yeah, well.” She cleared her throat. “Now would be a good time to tell me that you’re going to let everyone else go.”

“It is not my wish to displease you,” the voice said, drawing each word out like he was tasting it, savoring it. “But I need to help you see what your destiny is first.”

“I think I have a better idea what my destiny is than you do,” she said. 

There was something that sounded like a laugh, but it was clipped, strangled. “I think you know what it is, but you haven’t had the strength to realize it.”

“Keep him talking,” said one of the officers, as if this were Korra’s first hostage crisis.

“Well, if you understand me so well, then you must know that the best thing I think we can do right now is let all of these innocent people go so that you and I can talk.”

“Innocent?” The voice changed, and she realized that she’d struck a nerve. “No one in this house is innocent. The powerful of Republic City are complicit in this, and I am willing to sacrifice every one of them if it helps us build a better future.”

“We know the explosives are a lie,” she said, trying to get a bigger reaction.

“Just because some things aren’t real doesn’t mean everything is a lie,” the voice said, and at that second, there was an ear-splitting sound, a flash of red light, and a ball of fire rose into the air right over the garage where they had emerged barely fifteen minutes ago. Korra’s left ear was ringing, but through her right ear she heard the voice drone on. 

“This election must not be allowed to go forward. You have one hour.” And the line went dead.

Korra let the receiver fall to the ground and put her hands on her head, trying to still the violent ache that had was erupting behind her temples. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over to see Mako, his eyes reassuring and worried at the same time. 

“He said I had an hour,” she shouted, though she wasn’t sure who heard her. People were scrambling to investigate the wreck of the garage, water tankers veering off down the side road to try to keep the blaze from spreading. In the chaos, she saw that their captive had been dropped to the ground. She scrambled over to him and pulled him upright again, slamming his back against a Satomobile.

“What makes you people think I can call this election off?”

“You’re the Avatar,” he said. His eyes were wide, and his nose was starting to bleed again, making him look crazier than ever.

“I don’t set policy. The government…”

“The Avatar is stronger than any government. You are the most powerful being in our world. Remember that and the government will bow to you.”

“And why on earth would you want me to do that.”

“The government is a thing of man. It is corrupt. The Avatar is chosen…”

She’d had enough. She released her grip and let his body slide down the door of the Satomobile to the ground. Her head was pounding in time with her heart, and her hands were starting to feel numb. She didn’t care to take the time to explain to him how wrong he was, that the Avatar came into being through terrible necessity, that chance, not choice was the reason the title fell to her.

When Korra turned, Mako, Bei Fong, and Bao were facing her. She pulled them away from the prisoner, who was being placed in handcuffs, out of earshot. 

“Maybe I should just do what he says,” and she saw Mako and Bao’s eyes get enormous. “I mean I just say the words like they want me to,” she clarified. “It’s not like anyone will listen to me. As soon as the hostages are loose, we arrest these guys and carry on as usual.”

Lin looked half willing to consider it, but Korra could tell an objection was boiling behind Mako’s lips even though he was trying to suppress it. “Speak,” she demanded.

“Korra, how can you be sure they won’t extract some kind of guarantee over you. That they won’t find some way to make certain you don’t let it happen.”

“Mako, these guys are insane if they think I can stop the United Republic from holding an election. Short of killing everyone, how could I possibly do that?”

“Your words, Korra. Your words have power. If they make you say publicly that the elections are illegitimate, this City—the whole world—would fall into chaos.” 

“I think that’s being a little dramatic.”

“What you say and what you do matters to people. Isn’t that what you were trying to tell me earlier?”

Her temper flared. “Well maybe it shouldn’t!” she yelled, remembering Etsuko’s words from earlier. Or maybe it really, really should, she thought quietly to herself. 

“Enough,” said Bei Fong, interrupting them as if they were quarrelling children. “We have an hour and we have a prisoner. We know some of the threats are real and some are fake. Maybe if our friend here can tell us which is which, we can figure out how to infiltrate this place and end it without the Avatar having to do anything. 

…

At Lin’s behest, Korra kept her distance from the interrogation. She sat on the hood of a Satomobile, massaging her temples and trying not to look in Mako’s direction. He was leaning against the vehicle with his back to her, his body speaking volumes when his lips did not. So much and so little had changed between them. She could still tell when he was trying his best not to be angry with her.

Twenty minutes passed.

“This is pointless,” she said. “We’re putting everyone at risk by waiting this long.”

“Everyone already is at risk no matter what you do,” he said, his voice acidic.

“Thank you for your support.”

He sighed, and she looked over to see him put his head in his hands. “That’s not what I…I’m sorry.”

She wasn’t used to getting an apology out of him so quickly. He stood upright turned, and she saw that he was paler than usual, dark circles forming underneath his eyes. She realized for a second what she of all people was uniquely qualified to understand—what sticking to his principles was costing him.

“My brother…everyone…” He shuffled his feet uncomfortably, shoulders falling forward as he looked at the ground. 

“I know,” she said, looking over to where Bao was being examined for the blow to the head he’d taken earlier. “I know.”

Another twenty minutes ticked by, and Korra’s skin started to crawl. Pushing herself off the hood, she marched over to where the police interrogator was still fruitlessly trying to wring information out of their captive, Lin looking on all the while.

“Anything?”

“We’re still looking for leverage,” said the Chief, her typically calm voice a little strained as she looked at her watch. “It would help if we even had a name.”

“The members of the Revolution have no names,” said the captive. 

Korra ignored him. “What if I go inside and talk to them,” she said. 

“You mean give yourself up?” Lin looked slightly incredulous.

“No, I mean negotiate. Find out a little bit more about what they want, what’s behind all of this.” She looked down to where the prisoner was still sitting on the ground, his hands cuffed behind his back, his eyes staring rather wildly up at her.

The Chief was quiet as nearly another full minute ticked by. “Lin, we’re wasting time,” Korra said.

“If you go in there, we’ll have no way to get you back out again. You’ll just be another high value hostage.”

“Lin, honestly, when was the last time I needed you to rescue me?”

The older woman remained iron-faced as she turned her head to the side. “Get the line to the house open again,” she shouted. “Tell them the Avatar would like guaranteed safe passage for a negotiation.”

At that Mako ran over to where they were standing. Korra could read the admonition in his eyes—this was what you wanted from the start—but he clearly also knew there was no point in voicing it. “They’re not going to hurt me,” she said, and he nodded. But she knew she wasn’t the only one he had to worry about.

…

Korra held the hem of her dress in her right hand as she made the long walk up the driveway, passing the still smoldering wreck of the Satomobile barricade, the eerie red light casting strange shadows across the path in front of her. The mansion was pitch dark, quiet. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought it empty for years. The entire scene looked like the end of the world.

Drawing closer to the entrance, she could see two forms standing on the stairs. She thought, for a brief second, how easy it would be to simply take them out and fight her way inside. She could probably even do it without alerting anyone else. In another time, another life, perhaps, she’d have done it. But her ears were still buzzing from the earlier explosion, and there were chances she was simply no longer willing to take. 

The two guards pulled fire from the air and assumed a ready stance when they saw her. She sighed and raised her hands above her head, a reluctant gesture of surrender. They flanked her, one on either side. Korra fell into step with them, but when one reached out to grab her elbow, she recoiled and rounded on him with a ferocity that startled even her. 

“Either of you touch me, and you’ll wish those vests were real. Got it?” 

In the flickering light of the blaze, she saw the eyes of the man next to her. They were less fanatical than the ones she’d seen before. They were sad, serious, but resolved. He recoiled from her for a second, as if he didn’t quite believe what she’d said to him, and then he assented, drawing back a few inches to let her walk unrestrained. 

Inside, Korra thanked all her past lives for her own prior restraint because a haphazard line of black-clad men and women greeted her, their faces barely illuminated by candlelight and the fires a few of them held in their hands. They looked young, desperately young, and way they stared at her made her skin crawl. There was desperation in their faces, but also something that could have been reverence, a twisted, savage kind of love directed toward her and not her at the same time. She tried to regulate the pace of her own heart, breathing deeply and feeling the outward expansion of her stomach for five, exhaling for seven. It helped. Sort of. 

She was escorted through the house, past the ballroom, where she craned her neck to see beyond a cluster of figures to where the party guests were lined up, their backs to the walls of the room, their hands bound in front of them, guards pacing at their feet. When she tried to stop, a member of her growing escort bumped against her, forcing her to keep walking. They led her silently through the halls until they stopped at the big wooden doors of the library. 

What she saw when she walked inside rendered her previous attempts to calm herself fruitless. The first sight that greeted her eyes was a familiar face, mouth gagged, body tied to a chair, with two large guards standing on either side of him. 

“Bolin,” she said, his name barely audible as it left her lips. His eyes as they met hers were steady, unblinking, as if he was concentrating all his effort on telegraphing a message of solidarity from his brain to hers. Her heart sank, and above anything, she wished she could ask him what he would have her do. Would he beg to be saved or did he have his brother’s principles? The fact that his mouth was bound suggested an answer she wasn’t sure she wanted.

“I’ve asked your friend here to join us to ensure that nothing…untoward happens here,” said a voice from the far end of the room.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this a gesture of good faith,” she said, her tone friable and frustratingly compressed. 

“It seemed that a hundred lives at a distance weren’t enough to sway you,” said the voice as a face came into view. It was surprisingly young, a couple of years younger than her at least. His skin was still smooth, his hair shaggy and unkempt, which made him look an unruly child. “But maybe things will be different if you have to watch your closest friend die in front of you.”

“You aren’t going to convince me that I’m the heartless one here.”

“It’s easy to have sympathy for the familiar. If you had any notion of what we have suffered, you might have half a notion to feel sympathy for us too.”

She tried to be conciliatory, to give the impression that she was on their side. “I assume it must have been great if you are all willing to throw your lives away like this.”

“Sacrificing yourself for the sake of a great cause isn’t throwing your life away.”

She let that go, looking for another angle. “What makes you think that I can stop this election from happening?”

“You have power. Your words have power.” This was a refrain that exhausted her, and she wondered at this point if an institution could even exist if her mere words could make it crumble.

“And what’s the endgame here? What happens if I call it off?”

“The Red Sands Revolution will serve you. The people of the United Republic will serve you.”

“What if I don’t want to be served.”

“It is your destiny to lead,” the man said as if he was stupid enough to think she had never heard this before. “You can’t fight it. Even if others have tried to convinced you that you are not worthy, that the Avatar no longer matters.”

“And you think that the way to get on my good side is by threatening people I love?”

“If it helps you see that we are willing to do anything…”

“It doesn’t,” she said flatly, and she saw his eyes flash in the candlelight. He stood there silent for a moment, and she tried to trace whatever mental paths such a person must have trodden in order to arrive at such a desperate place. “What’s your name?”

“The members of the Revolution have no names. We serve the Cause, because the Cause alone is what matters.”

This was the sort of thing she had heard before from the lips of countless fanatics with better resources. And it always sounded empty. The search for immolation in the fires of something bigger than the individual wasn’t simply an act of selflessness. To her, it always had the distinct flavor of the opposite. But the man in front of her wasn’t a Noatak or an Unalaq or the dozen or so wild-eyed extremists who’d presumed to direct the fate of the universe. He was smart, but the longer she stayed in that room, the more the vests and even the mystery of which explosives worked and which didn’t seemed like set dressing. An elaborate bluff designed to conceal a poorly planned and poorly funded rebellion. In spite of herself, she felt sorry for them. Angry and sorry. 

“You presume to know a great deal about me,” she said. “But I know nothing about any of you. Whose service will I have when all of this is over?”

“Red Sands is…”

“…is the poorest and smallest region of the United Republic.”

“And for nearly a century, we have never once controlled our own destinies.”

“This election would give you a say.”

“One vote among dozens,” he said. “And our politicians are weak, corrupt. They want only to ingratiate themselves to the powerful in this City, to line their pockets.”

A picture was beginning to emerge. There were several small districts like Red Sands, and it was true that none of them wielded enough influence to make much of a difference. But if they could control the most powerful person in the world…

“I can’t call off the election. But what if I was to advocate for you. Demand that the President and the newly elected Senate give your issues a hearing.” 

She saw his face soften, and she realized for just a moment just how far in over his head this man was, how desperately he was holding onto the strings that bound his revolution together. He looked at the others in the room, his eyes asking the sorts of questions that didn’t typically occur to would-be dictators. 

“You don’t really want to die here,” she said. 

“What about him.” The man pointed at Bolin. “He doesn’t want to die here either, but I’ll kill him…”

Korra looked Bolin hard in the eyes. She saw him concentrating ferociously and simply knew. 

“Based on what you know of me, do you really think I’m going to allow that to happen? I’m faster than any of your men, and that’s in spite of the fact that I’m wearing ridiculously unsuitable clothing and have had a lot to drink tonight. The second they make a move, they’re going down. And then you’ll have no choice but to blow this house up and kill us all. If you even can.”

She saw the knob in his throat rise and fall as he swallowed. “I can. Don’t think I won’t do it.” His smooth voice, the one thing that made him seem impressive, came clipped and hoarse.

“Even if I were convinced that you could,” she said. “What do you think happens to your Revolution if I die?”

“This is not all of us. Our comrades will find the next Avatar, and we will serve them when the time is right.”

A lie was forming in her mind. A lie that would finally bring him down. And looking into this man’s eyes, she hated herself a little. Because it was one thing to bring a man down in combat. It was another thing entirely to destroy his hope.

“There are no more Avatars after me,” she said. “The Dark Avatar destroyed the light spirit long ago. I am the last.” 

His mouth opened slightly, and she could feel doubt tearing him apart. 

“You’re lying. How could…”

“My friend here saw it happen,” she said. And then she made her move. Because she needed to do so while the man before her was still weighing the possibility that she was telling the truth. “Bolin, now.”

Bolin, who had managed to get his hands free, leapt off the chair and seized it in both hands, sweeping it in a wide circle that knocked both of his guards off their feet, their bodies crashing hard onto the ground. Korra saw their leader’s hand reach for something and caught his arm mid-air, wrenching it around and twisting it behind him. Anger pooled inside her and was filling the places where pity had momentarily made a place for itself. She felt his wrist snap, and he screamed out in pain. 

“Not a bender, huh?” she taunted, and she slammed him onto the ground, the heel of her shoe digging into his back. “You ok, Bo?” she called.

“Never better,” he said, and he used his own broken restraints to bind the two fallen guards. 

Korra reached for the phone and took the receiver off the hook. “I’m calling the Chief,” she said coldly, looking down at her fallen adversary. “And telling her to storm this place. And then I’m marching you through this house, and you can decide whether or not we all die here or live. If you’re even a little bit smart, you’ll tell your people to disarm and give themselves up. If you do, I might visit you in jail. If you don’t, the United Forces will spend the next year ripping Red Sands to pieces trying to find whatever remnants of your Revolution might be hiding out there, and there will be no Avatar left to save them.”

She heard whimpering coming up from the floor, and she knew she had won. But it wasn’t a satisfying victory. She dialed the line that Lin had given her and heard an officer’s voice crackle on the other end.

“Take the house,” was all she said. Then she picked the man up bodily from the ground. He was limp and heavy, but she forced him to stand on both feet. She opened the library doors with a burst of air from her fist, and Bolin followed behind them as she pressed on the leader’s broken wrist, earning her the complete surrender of his body and his will. And as they marched through the house, the ranks of his followers looked far smaller than they had before. All of a sudden, the electricity jolted back to life, and their faces were revealed in all their youth and desperation. They feared her, she could tell, and they could never understand her.

At the entrance, she was greeted by a wave of metalbenders as they approached the house. “Put your hands up,” she growled at her captive, her voice harsh in her own ears. And he did as ordered. Bei Fong approached at the head of the charge, her arms at the ready to fend off attackers. She cuffed the leader herself. “Careful,” Korra said. “I may have broken his arm by accident.” 

Officers swarmed past her on either side. She saw Mako’s face come into view, and he gave her a look of gratitude as he passed her in order to pull his brother into an embrace so fierce the younger man’s feet came off the ground. She returned to walk back through the house, the occasional broken wine glass crunching into the carpet beneath her feet. Some of the attackers cast her baleful looks and then turned away as their hands were bound and their vests were checked to be certain they weren’t explosive. A few of them, as it turned out, were. But it was only the hostage-takers in the ballroom. And it was only enough fire-power to kill the wearer and maybe a few people immediately around them, just enough to make some token demonstrations of power and resolve, but not enough to do all they promised. She wondered if the people wearing the live explosives had even known. 

Their eyes said that she had failed them—or, more accurately, that whatever version of her they had been taught to believe in had failed them. And she teetered on a ridge that separated rage from guilt. Because she was angry with them for building up a false image of her and threatening to murder the people she loved in service to it. And she hated herself for shattering whatever illusions had given them hope even as they had driven them to lunacy. 

In the ballroom, guests were being released from their bonds. Some seemed to have suffered the indignity better than others. Asami practically leaped from her spot and set about putting things in order, checking on members of her household staff and leading police in a full-scale search of the house for any hidden or retreating culprits. Candidate Etsuko still looked like she’d been carved from stone. Jiro, Mako’s campaign manager, on the other hand, tried to conceal a wet spot that darkened the front of his trousers. 

Korra was exhausted, and she knew rest would be a while yet in coming. She stood to one side, greeting her friends, taking Jinora and Pema’s hands in comfort as they assured her they’d never been worried. They knew she’d save them. Across the room, she saw Mako hugging and shaking hands with people. And while her mind threatened to wander down a dozen different dark paths, she kept her eyes on him. More than anything, she wanted to lead him back upstairs and either wreck him or come apart in his arms. Maybe both. But the window for that had passed for the night, and only the days that stretched blindly ahead would tell what would become of them. 

She clung to the women who surrounded her on either side, Pema’s hand absently stroking her ruined hair. And she was thankful for what she had in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the conclusion of this chapter feels like it sorta could be an end to the whole story, but there is more planned. This is really just meant to be an instigating event. And without telling you how to read it, I'll just say that Korra's internal responses to the crisis are what matter to me here, and those is going to be the driving force going forward.


End file.
